"I thought she who just left was you," he said, as though anxious to explain the attention he had devoted to Thérèse.
"And I, monsieur, know my friends too well to be deceived by a masquerade," I answered, and, of a truth, I believe that there must have been a tell-tale trace of sentiment in my tones. And why not? Even a pretty widow may have sentimental moments at times when her dearest friend is near at hand. He looked straight into my eyes as though he would read my inmost thoughts.
"Do you mean that?"
"I mean this, Gaspard, mon cher ami. I want you to do me a favor. Indeed, before the night is out there may be many favors I need to ask, and I want you to grant them all."
"Then they must be renamed," he answered, "not favors, but pleasures."
"See," I cried, "that woman dressed in the frosted green gown—intended, I should think, to represent an ice palace?"
"Yes."
"Do you know who she is?"
"No; who can say?" he replied, with a slight shrug of the shoulders.
"I must be near her for the rest of the night—I want to watch her."